He did not hasten nor drag, he did not think.

He went like a bronze Talus, made simply to find, to carry home.
Known feature after known feature of the place rose before him, passed him, fell away.

Here was the arm of the glen, and here was the pebbled cape and the thorn-tree.

The winter water swirled around it, sang of cold and a hateful power.

Here was the mouth of the glen.